


What Have They Done to You Now?

by monsterhugger



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Brief Violence, M/M, Mind Reading, Peter Lukas is just the absolute worst, Recovery, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24354511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterhugger/pseuds/monsterhugger
Summary: Martin is losing sleep after his brush with the Lonely. Jon is slowly realizing that Peter Lukas was even more of a monster than he thought.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 127





	What Have They Done to You Now?

**Author's Note:**

> What Peter did to Martin is intentionally vague here but... it's probably what you think it is. No explicit or graphic anything but it's uncomfy stuff.

Jon awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of a kettle boiling. It wasn’t weird. Neither he nor Martin really had normal sleep schedules. Jon had always been sort of an insomniac himself, and Martin…

Well, there was a time when Martin was able to sleep soundly through the night. He didn’t like to admit it, maybe it was to make Jon feel better about himself or to make his current state seem less serious. But Jon Knew, even despite his troubled childhood and various other issues, Martin hadn’t had trouble sleeping until now. Until Peter.

Jon had to restrain himself from Knowing just what Peter did to Martin. He knew Martin wouldn’t like for him to know that. Just one brief excursion into the Lonely to rescue Martin had chilled Jon to his core, so if Peter was keeping him there, he hated to imagine how awful Martin must have felt. Martin had told him he hadn’t bought into what Peter was saying, that he was always planning on resisting the Lonely, but Peter seemed to have brought him quite deep into his domain.

There wasn’t much point in trying to get back to sleep now. Jon knew he’d hardly be able to close his eyes when he knew Martin was out in the kitchen, alone, not curled up safely in bed with him. Martin had yet to hurt himself or do anything even remotely dangerous during his late-night wanderings, but Jon couldn’t help but worry. He crawled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen.

He couldn’t see Martin at first. It wasn’t the dark-the rays of dawn shining through the window should have provided enough illumination, but Martin simply wasn’t there. The kettle whistled angrily at him, and he lifted it off the stove and poured it into a mug that was sitting on the counter. It was still too dark to tell if there was actually a tea bag in the mug, but Jon figured if Martin didn’t want him pouring the water out he’d materialise to complain about it.

A wispy hand reached out from nothing and grabbed the handle of the mug. Jon gently placed his hand over it. His hand didn’t go through it, but it felt like it could at any moment.

“Martin,” he said. “Martin, I’m here. Can you come out?”

Slowly, Martin blinked into focus. He started out hazy and bluish, made of some kind of mist, before materialising fully as a solid human. Jon ran his thumb over Martin’s hand, which was still clutching the mug.

“Sorry for waking you,” Martin muttered.

“It’s no problem. I don’t mind getting up to see you.”

“What if you don’t see me?”

“Then I suppose you need me even more than usual. I can always _see_ you, anyway.”

“Yeah, about that. How much of the Lonely and… me in it have you actually _seen?_ ”

“I try not to look.”

Martin nodded, looking down at his feet. He was wearing a pair of fuzzy slippers and plaid pajama bottoms, and his face was flushed and damp with tears and mist. 

“Do you know what happened in there?” he asked, gingerly sipping his tea.

“Again, Martin, I really try not to Know things about you. I know you don’t like it.”

“Hm,” Martin muttered. “Well, I suppose that’s nice of you.”

“If you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.” Jon rested a hand on Martin’s shoulder, and he tried not to be too concerned when Martin flinched.

“I mean, I don’t know if I want to talk about it,” Martin said. “I don’t think I can talk about it, but I also think maybe you should know what happened.”

“I don’t need to know anything.”

Martin set his mug of tea down on the counter and leaned in close to Jon. He rested his chin on top of Jon’s head, and Jon wrapped his arms around him. His arms only barely went all the way around Martin’s body. Martin had a habit of teasing him about how small he was, but Jon didn’t mind. He knew Martin just thought he was cute, and he really liked curling up in Martin’s lap with his head against his chest, being wrapped in his arms and held tightly to his body. But this time it was his turn to hold Martin close, holding onto him as tightly as he could. Jon was a presence, he was someone for Martin to be with, and that was the most important thing.

“I just want someone to know besides me,” Martin said. “It just feels so lonely, being the only one who knows what happened.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” Jon rubbed Martin’s back. Martin nuzzled his face into Jon’s hair. Jon could hear his quick and laboured breathing. Martin always sounded a little out of breath after coming out of the Lonely. Holding him like this usually helped, though he still seemed to take a while to calm down.

“What happens when you’re in the Lonely?” Jon asked. “Now, I mean.”

“Nothing,” Martin replied. “Just… nothing. So much nothing.”

“Oh,” Jon said. He didn’t pretend to understand what the Lonely was like. He had only been inside briefly, and he had been trying to block the experience from his mind ever since. Martin seemed to dip into the Lonely several times a day, fading out of existence for anywhere from a few minutes to several hours, returning with his face red and damp from crying.

“He was the only thing that could get in,” Martin continued. “It was always just me and him in there. And I think… I think he controlled it, when he was alive. He could push me in whenever he wanted and he wouldn’t let me out. It was just dark and cold and I felt so very, very alone. And he reached out to me. ‘Martin, I’m here. You’re not alone. You have me.’ And I took his hand, and it was so… cold. Cold and horrible, and it didn’t make me feel any less alone but I felt like if I let go I was going to get lost in there, I was going to be stuck in that place forever.”

“Did he tell you he was going to trap you there?”

“N-no,” Martin muttered. “I just… knew it. Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe I was just really sure, and there was no reason to think it. But I knew he was powerful. I knew he could trap me there, maybe he wouldn’t do that to me but he could.” Martin was starting to cry again. Jon squeezed him tighter, feeling Martin’s body shake against him.

“Let’s go back to bed,” Jon suggested.

“But… I made tea.”

Jon sighed.

“The couch, then. I need to sit down.”

Martin nodded, letting go of Jon and grabbing his tea, following Jon into the living room. Jon collapsed onto the couch, and Martin sat down next to him. He held his mug with both hands, clutching it to his chest as if it was the only thing keeping him warm. Jon leaned against Martin’s arm. As he stared across the living room at the clock on the wall, trying to gauge just how early in the morning it was, he noticed he hadn’t been wearing his glasses. He was so used to Martin appearing hazy that he hadn’t even questioned it.

“He was a big guy, you know,” Martin said softly.

“Peter?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m sure everyone looks big to you-”

Jon grumbled, and Martin laughed.

“Well, he was bigger than me,” Martin said. “You might not know it just looking at him, always wearing that big coat. But the coat wasn’t compensating for anything, mind. He really was huge.”

“That’s an interesting thing to notice,” Jon said.

“Is it?” Martin asked. “I mean, I’m not a small guy myself, Jon. When someone towers over me I tend to take notice. Especially when they’re…” Martin trailed off. Jon’s mind filled in the blanks before he could stop it: Peter wasn’t just big, he was _strong,_ strong enough to hold Martin down and-

“Oh, Jesus,” Jon muttered.

“Wh-what is it?” Martin asked?”

“I… I just Knew something. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh.”

“Martin, did he… did he _hurt_ you?”

“You tell me. You read my mind, anyway.”

“I stopped myself before I could get to specifics, but… it didn’t look good.”

“You want specifics?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think I’d feel okay Seeing… whatever it was, and it certainly doesn’t seem like something you’d want to talk about.”

“It wasn’t anything permanent. He’s not like some of the other Fears, the ones that got you. No scars. Not even… well, it hurt, but it’s not what you’d think. There were bruises, but I don’t think he meant to leave them.”

Jon bit his lip and tried to focus on Martin’s words, on the blurry room, on anything that would keep him from Seeing into Martin’s head. He was definitely imagining something, and he hoped it was just his imagination and not Martin’s thoughts slipping into his head. Partly because he didn’t want to feel like he was violating Martin’s privacy, and partly because he didn’t want what he was imagining to be real.

Jon put his arm around Martin. He was shivering, and Jon couldn’t tell if it was the chill of the Lonely or just fear and trauma from thinking about Peter.

“Did it even have anything to do with the Lonely?” Jon asked.

“I… I don’t know. If he wanted me to be devoted to him, to submit to him… I mean, I guess that’s one definition of ‘submit’. Probably not what Elias meant, but they’re both awful enough they might’ve counted it. Or at least gotten some enjoyment out of it.” There was a twinge of anger in his voice, but he was so shaken with tears it didn’t have much impact. Martin tried very hard not to seem soft and defenseless and weak, but Jon didn’t need to Know anything to know Martin wouldn’t be able to fight back. It made sense that Peter chose him as his victim. He was so gentle, so sweet and kind, which of course made Jon love him dearly but also made him easy prey for the likes of Peter Lukas. Jon felt sick thinking about it, about the kind of awful person who would take advantage of someone as perfect as his Martin.

“You can See into the Lonely, can’t you?” Martin asked.

“I mean, I try not to. And when I do it’s quite blurry.”

“So Elias would’ve Seen it then. Of course.”

“Well… I’m sure he had other things to keep him busy. Maybe he wasn’t paying attention.”

“He was in prison, Jon. And you were in a coma, so I was probably the next best thing in terms of entertainment.”

“God, I despise that man,” Jon hissed.

“I mean, I suppose you had it worse. What he did to you was… more permanent. And noticeable.” Martin tapped Jon’s arm, and a small eye blinked open and shut right next to his elbow.

“Just because you didn’t get any scars doesn’t mean it wasn’t permanent.”

“It ended. It’s over.”

“You’re still going into the Lonely. And don’t even talk about ‘noticeable,’ _I_ notice when you disappear on me or wake up in the middle of the night crying to yourself in the kitchen.”

“You think it would’ve been better if I let him take me? If I gave in to the Lonely?”

Jon was silent for a while. Truthfully, he had no idea. He just didn’t know what would make Martin feel worse-thinking there was nothing he could’ve done to stop Peter from doing what he did, or thinking if he’d just given in it wouldn’t have been as bad.

“I don’t think he would’ve stopped what he was doing,” Jon decided. “Maybe you would’ve… let him, if you were a part of the Lonely, maybe it would’ve been less physically painful, but he wouldn’t have stopped. I don’t think someone like that just stops.”

“It’s… odd, isn’t it? That someone whose whole life is devoted to being lonely would do that.”

“I don’t think he did it for him. I think he did it to make you feel alone.”

“Oh. Well… it worked, I guess.”

Jon sighed. He’d really tried not to look into Martin’s head, but Martin figured he already knew what Peter did. He thought he’d pieced it together, he already felt ill just imagining it, there probably wasn’t any harm in taking a glance inside to confirm his suspicions…

He Saw, and his breath hitched when the images entered his mind. His powers didn’t let him just ask yes or no questions. He’d Looked, and now he couldn’t take it back. The images were hazy, but not as hazy as when he looked into the Lonely himself. Not nearly hazy enough to obscure the horrible memories he’d picked from Martin’s head. Martin was right, of course, even without his coat Peter was huge and imposing, muscular arms pinning Martin against a surface that didn’t seem to really exist. Martin was crying. Peter was stone-faced, not revelling in the torture but seemingly just annoyed at Martin’s struggle, meek and useless as it was. Jon closed his eyes, which of course did nothing to stop the onslaught of images.

“Jon?”

Jon opened his eyes again, the images finally leaving his head. Martin was holding him close to his body. Jon was shaking and panting, trying to process what he’d just seen and also trying to block it from his mind forever.

“You Saw, didn’t you,” Martin said sadly.

“Martin…” Jon gasped. “Martin, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s… good that you know, I think. I don’t have to be the only one who knows what he did.”

“Are you okay?” Jon muttered, still reeling.

“I don’t know. How okay should I be about this?”

“I mean, I’m just glad he’s already dead. If not, I might’ve gone out right now and killed him myself.”

“I thought you did kill him.”

“Intentionally, I mean. Maybe with some kind of blunt, rusty knife.”

Martin swallowed.

“Maybe hold off on the torture fantasies?” he said softly.

“He _deserves_ it, Martin. After what he did to you? I’m surprised you wouldn’t want to do the same.”

“Alright, I suppose he might deserve it, but you’re making me uncomfortable.”

“Right. I’m sorry.”

“Elias is still alive. Maybe you can kill him.”

“Later, maybe. Right now, I… I think I need a nap.”

Martin pulled Jon close to him, and Jon nuzzled his head against Martin’s chest. Martin sipped his tea, and Jon tried and failed to go back to sleep.


End file.
